one word photo challenge: yellow

instagram one word photo challenge

This week I kept forgetting what color we were going for, so I never specifically pinpointed yellow tones. I was pleasantly surprised to see that I had exactly one instagram photo and one DSLR photo with clear pops of yellow. These pretty little flowers appeared in the planter outside our door this week; they didn’t bloom last year and we certainly didn’t plant them, so I guess it’s a bit o’ nature magic.

My DSLR photo captures the fine details of my mustard yellow sweater, which I wore on a walk last Friday afternoon.

yellow sweater macro

book review: Flight Behavior

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This was a living flow, like a pulse through veins, with the cells bursting and renewing themselves as they went. The sudden vision filled her with strong emotions that embarrassed her, for fear of breaking into sobs as she had in front of her in-laws that day when the butterflies enveloped her. How was that even normal, to cry over insects? (Flight Behavior, p. 215)

Barbara Kingsolver’s Flight Behavior describes the plight of the monarch butterfly in an extensive and complex narrative. Dellarobia, the tale’s protagonist, discovers a migratory flock of monarchs living on her Tennessee property by mistake, but takes their presence as a sign to turn her life around. Millions of orange bodies pulsate against trees and fill the air like fire, like a burning bush. Soon she and the butterflies gain local and then national attention and the area is flooded with tourists, news crews, and scientists.

Though the story is about Dellarobia’s personal transformation, it’s just as much about the impending devastation of the earth due to climate change and other man-made obstacles. The butterflies aren’t supposed to be here; their presence is an indication of the ultimate decay of earth’s natural wonders. As Dellarobia and Ovid Byron, an ecologist, work together to answer the “whys” of the Tennessee monarch phenomenon, they also come to terms with the cultural barriers that keep academics and farmers from working together. The narrative held my attention for all 464 pages and it taught me about monarchs through the gripping lens of character conflict and conversation. It’s a brilliant example of narrative ethics; it demanded personal, emotional investment in monarch survival as I measured, observed, and discussed alongside Ovid and Dellarobia. It worked its way into my heart; it refused to leave me unscathed.

Monarchs don’t roost in Tennessee. This part is fictional. But it’s clear that monarchs are dying out and that we have a lot to do with it. According to a recent Washington Post article, “deforestation in Mexico, recent bouts of severe weather, and the growth of herbicide-based agriculture destroying crucial milkweed flora in the Midwest” are significant factors in their decline. From 2012 to 2013 – that’s one year – butterflies overwintering in Mexico declined by nearly half (60 million versus 33 million).

I’m ultimately disturbed by what feels like the inevitability of their demise. It’s a well known fact that Monsanto products obliterate native ecosystems in North America, but lobbyists have had very little success convincing the government to ban their products. Activists would also have to convince Mexico to halt deforestation at monarch roosting sites. I want to think we can do it, but we’re so perverse, so corrupt, so bent on taking the easy way out, I don’t know if we can reverse it in time.

Monarchs are beautiful creatures, welcome sights. And their dauntingly complex migratory path is inspiring. It forces you outside your tiny, day-to-day concerns. When I first saw video footage of their post-winter departure in Mexico, I cried, just like Dellarobia. We can’t let this happen. We can’t let them die.

*Book cover image via NPR

one word photo challenge: neon

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For this week’s challenge, I focused on bright spots amid the gray rather than on authentic neon tones. Still, I think I came pretty close. My instagram photo depicts the quaint yellow building in which I reunited with my friend, Taylor, for country cookin’ before thrift shopping in Ruckersville. The DSLR photo, taken in the back yard with my 50 mm lens, is a partially eaten rotting tangerine that Daniel threw in the yard hoping to attract wildlife.

neon1If you’d like to participate in the one word photo challenge, visit my sister’s blog.

old charlottesville

John Shepherd is a Charlottesville local who focused his early photography efforts on “people on the street.” These 1970s film photographs of downtown Charlottesville fascinate me because they’re simultaneously familiar and foreign.

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Where could you get a huge wig dyed all colors of the rainbow? Try the Love Wig first. That’s Batten’s Auto Parts on the left, now a consignment shop.

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I don’t know who are at the counter but that’s Pearl behind the cash register. I gave her a copy of this when she retired.

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Click the image to be redirected to the etsy listing. All images used with permission from the photographer.

madison county, va

mad10mad2 mad4 mad5 mad7mad13 mad8mad11 mad9We took a trip out to Madison to meet up with my friend, Taylor, before heading to a local peach festival. She lives with her mom, three dogs, a couple cats, and some feisty goats on a few acres surrounded by mountains and lush Virginia countryside. I’m so glad I got to see it before she moves to Georgia next week. I’m going to miss her a lot. But it’s ok because we bought friendship crates at the (otherwise lame) festival!

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Lao by Kenn Reagle

She calls me babysan
I am only nineteen years old
I don’t even shave
The skin on my face is soft
Lao giggles when she sees me
She introduces me to her friends
They call me babysan

I see her working in the fields
She offers me her lunch
One small ear of corn
I sit beside her
I eat her corn
What a strange war
At the moment we are winning

Lao points to her friend
Her name, “Minoi!”
“Minoi!” I say
She giggles
They speak
In a language
Incomprehensible to me
Minoi means darling
They call me babysan

I watch the fall of Nha Trang
On television in Lancaster, Ohio
I grieve for Lao and her friends
I won my war
They Called Me Babysan

KENN Reagle IS A FRIEND AND FREQUENT CUSTOMER AT THE COFFEE SHOP WHERE I WORK. HE’S ALSO A POET AND A GREAT CONVERSATIONALIST. HE RECENTLY GAVE ME TWO OF HIS POETRY BOOKS; LAO APPEARS IN NO ONE CALLS ME HERO, A COLLECTION OF POEMS ON HIS VIETNAM WAR EXPERIENCE.

I am not less

graduate photo

One Saturday night a few weeks ago, Daniel and I were in the car on the way to a potluck dinner where several grad students would be present when he asked me:

“Why do you act embarrassed that you’re not in grad school?”

I replied, “Because I am embarrassed. And I’m embarrassed now that my embarrassment was so obvious that you picked up on it.”

Here’s my confession: I’ve been embarrassed that I’m not pursuing grad school since the semester before I received my undergraduate degree.

That was always the expectation, at first from only myself and later from everyone (at least as I perceived it): peers, family, professors, coworkers, friends. I heard them saying, implicitly or aloud:

Leah is the grad school type. Leah is smart and motivated and needs to use her academic talent to better the humanities. Leah is too good to leave academia. Leah’s job as a nanny/framer/barista is obviously temporary – we know she can do better

But here I am, two years later, not in grad school. And I can’t help feeling like a disappointment to myself and everyone who invested in a dream that may have been more theirs than mine all along. And I have to learn to cope with that. To not be ashamed of myself just because I don’t have a title or prepared statement for that pervasive, incessant question: “What are you doing with your life?”

Do I have to know what I’m doing with my life? Does anyone ever stick to their early-20s response? And if they do, are they satisfied?

I need to work through my feelings of inadequacy. I need to see value in myself as a living human being trying to better myself and be good to others. I need to recognize that I am enough as long as I strive to make life meaningful – by the moment and the hour and the day.

I need others to grant me the space to breathe. I need others to have the self-respect to see themselves as more than their resumes or academic accolades so that they can see me in that light, too.

I’m trying to internalize the truth that I don’t have to – and probably shouldn’t – measure myself by someone else’s standards for success. I’m trying to overcome the pull of the myth that the highest form of human being is the employed scholar. I can be who I want to be, read what I want to read, and discuss in depth what I want to discuss without a piece of paper that tells others I’m an expert, that tells me I have the right to speak. And I can do other things too. And I have the right to respect myself for grand things like my entrepreneurial goals and lowly things like my ability to make a great cappuccino.

And I am not less for the decisions I’ve made or the place I’m in. 

Enough

I am not enough.

I know this to be true. The struggle of the quest to be enough is that it has no blunt ends or signposts or sections in the dictionary.

Enough : being what you need to be and nothing more.

But context is the final definer of the lines around enough and that story rests largely in my perception, my point of view.

I am not enough, I say, because I want to be more. Need is not a good enough end.

And here grace steps in, shaking her head, drawing a circle in red chalk in the center of the blacktop street – telling me firmly to Come In!

I step into the center, see a single word scrawled in bold block letters beneath my feet.

It says, Enough.

review: Erzulie Cosmetics Cream to Powder foundation

organic foundationI discovered Erzulie while searching for organic skincare options on etsy and have been using their products for several months now. Recently, I purchased the Mineral Cream to Powder Foundation in Light on the seller’s recommendation. I have used it every day for the past few weeks, so I think it’s time to review it.

You should know before I start that I have sensitive, combination, acne-prone skin that gets very dry in patches during the winter months. I turned to organic skin care initially in order to avoid artificial fragrances, but there are so many other benefits (and there are so many great products) that I’ve stuck with it for additional reasons.

My rating: 4/5

Pros:

  • blends really well into skin
  • provides even, medium coverage
  • easy to apply
  • seems to last all day (at least when set with powder)
  • unscented
  • not greasy

Cons:

  • provided sponge is poor quality
  • a bit shiny without the addition of powder
  • texture makes it hard to maneuver inside compact
  • makes dry skin more pronounced due to nature of application

I used Erzulie Liquid foundation before trying this kind. I like the coverage this provides better, but the liquid is a bit easier to use. I use a nice quality thick sponge applicator for this instead of the provided pad. I knocked off a point due to the poor quality provided applicator and the firmness of the product. If it were a bit wetter, I think it would be easier to apply.

In conclusion, I will continue to use Erzulie Cream to Powder Foundation and will likely buy it again once I run out of my current supply.

month in review: 11/2012

November is difficult to summarize because I can barely remember what happened before Thanksgiving. I think I’m finally at the point where calling these posts, ” …months in C-Ville,” is unnecessary; I no longer think of my life here in terms of my moving date, which is a sign it really feels like home.

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Thanksgiving table, sans Turkey

Last month, I:

  • toured Luray Caverns and Woodstock, VA with Daniel and his dad
  • found a limited edition, made in Israel, art print for .50 at Circa
  • went on an invigorating walk on the Saunders-Monticello Trail with two new friends
  • had to wear a jacket every single day
  • thrifted a ton of vintage (and a few things for myself)
  • drove to Richmond twice in one week to pick up and return my sister to her Florida carpool
  • took my car into the shop twice
  • watched Waitress and sipped hot chocolate with a friend
  • promoted Water Lily Thrift‘s first annual Black Friday sale
  • edited a product information email for my boss
  • got another raise at work
  • finished ballet classes for the season
  • wrote an article
  • got halfway through The Autobiography of Malcolm X
  • visited Carter Mountain with Daniel and my visiting friend, Andrea
  • spent Thanksgiving week with two friends and my sister (who also happens to be my friend)
  • hosted Thanksgiving
  • attended the Tree Lighting ceremony downtown
  • bought lots of Christmas gifts
  • hosted a church mini-potluck (where everyone brought dessert!)
  • bought my first real Christmas tree
  • began an ornament collection
  • tinkered with the blog layout

I’m so glad I sit down to make these lists. Without them, I wouldn’t realize how much I actually do and accomplish each month. It looks like we had quite an adventure after all! Guests, parties, outdoor trails, holidays. We’re regular Charlottesvillians, it seems – all settled in and welcoming people into our home.

December is here. It’ll be an exciting month.

 

one month in C-Ville

Yesterday marked the one month-iversary of our new life in Charlottesville. It’s incredible how quickly time has flown already. In most ways, Charlottesville already feels like home. But there are still loose ends to tie: settling into a church, unpacking and organizing the final traces of our move, finding a consistent group of friends to hang out with, and switching over my license and registration.

Jennifer (my old neighbor) and I reunited

In one month, I (and sometimes Daniel):

  • traveled over 12, stressful hours on rural streets and highways
  • visited every grocery store chain in town (and still can’t find one as delightful as Publix)
  • perused at least 7 antique shops
  • bought an armchair and a vintage mirror
  • bought a dozen or so books from local stores
  • ate at Bodo’s Bagels 4 times
  • interviewed for four jobs
  • changed my mind about my immediate career goals
  • got a job I love (for once)
  • visited UVA
  • felt consistently nauseous (it’s finally subsiding)
  • stretched fabric across a canvas and made two photo canvases and three pillow cases
  • bought pet rats (Surprise! I haven’t told very many people yet)
  • watched the meteor shower on a farm while listening to acoustic improvisation
  • assembled book cases
  • celebrated a birthday (Daniel’s)
  • saw a Bluegrass legend in concert
  • ate lots of delicious food
  • visited three churches
  • freaked out, a lot
  • revamped my vintage store
  • made some friends
  • toured the neighborhood
  • saw Obama in person
  • visited with a friend I haven’t seen since high school

I know – and fear – that as time inches along, I’ll stop caring about the little accomplishments, struggles, and tasks I experience each month; they’ll be compacted into a small blurb on the timeline of my life. But, looking over this list, I feel quite proud of how far we’ve come in one month. Moving, especially hundreds of miles away from your previous life, brings uncertainty – about identity, financial security, relationships. But I’ve reflected lately that moving away from an identity that is created for you over days and months and years creates a space for renewed liberty, a wider sphere of choice. I have a chance here to present myself and identify myself based upon who I am and what I believe and what interests me now without fear of rattling someone’s preconceived notions of who I am. I can take pride in what I have achieved. I can say to myself, “You are good enough,” for the first time in a year. The challenge will be to push toward that level of freedom and self-understanding as we scatter presuppositions and misunderstandings along our path in Charlottesville. What I’ve learned here in the last month is that we do have the power to change our lives. In fact, the daily task of life is simply making choices and living with them.

Obama in Charlottesville

a.k.a., the most thrilling day of my existence. 

Regardless of how you feel about Obama or the party he represents, if you had been in downtown Charlottesville yesterday, your veins would have been coursing with the tangible, electric, energy of thousands of people, first awaiting Obama’s arrival and then crowding in around a perimeter secured by Secret Service agents outside the local campaign office to catch a glimpse of him, snap a picture, shake his hand.

a man serenades the line with jazz

I had to work at 1, so I took the bus downtown around 11 am to avoid the anxiety of limited parking due to road closures. Once there, I meandered the Downtown Mall, camera in hand, to take in the crowds. It was important to me to capture the overall feeling and sense of anticipation rather than just a couple shots of Obama. People started lining up before I got there even though the gates weren’t set to open until 1:00. By 12:30, the line extended back several blocks from the Pavilion, from one end of the mall to the other (some report that it actually extended past the pedestrian mall in the final minutes before the line began to inch forward). It took an entire hour to herd all attendees through the gate; my coworker and I watched them move forward in line from the shop’s large window.

Crowds extended to the end of the Downtown Mall

I didn’t get to attend the event due to work, but my boss, a local small business owner, had a VIP ticket which allowed her to stand at the front of the auditorium. She took some great pictures and got to shake Obama’s hand.

After the speech ended, the coffee shop was overwhelmed by customers eagerly awaiting smoothies and other cold drinks after several hours in the late summer heat. As the final customers trickled in at the end of the rush, we noticed that a crowd had started to gather outside of the shop. Someone shouted, “Obama’s coming!,” and my manager and I immediately ran outside. The area was secured by a dozen or more Secret Service agents. After 15 minutes of waiting, we heard cheering as a caravan of black cars drove down 4th street. Within seconds, the cheering escalated, and there he was! I was maybe 100 feet from the President of the United States: an international figure, a fixture of American politics, a talking point of every American household! I held my camera above my head to try to get some usable shots. It was exciting to see what I had managed to capture at the end of the day’s events.

People crowd in to catch a glimpse of the President

Obama visited the campaign office and brightened the day of many hard working volunteers and staff members. A girl at the restaurant next door shook his hand and her coworkers all high-fived it, as if the thrill of her experience would rub off on them.

As we began our closing tasks at the shop, two girls sat at separate tables, crying. One had been an active campaign volunteer who couldn’t get past the Secret Service to shake Obama’s hand. The other was at the front of the crowd as he arrived, and she, much to her surprise and joy, had shaken his hand. That image summed up the spirit and passion, the sheer emotion – impossible to interpret at times –  of the day for me.

surprise bluegrass

Yesterday we antique window-shopped then headed to The Corner by campus for a bite to eat at Bodo’s and some used bookstore perusing. In the evening, we decided to check out the local Target. We were quite pleasantly surprised to find, upon our arrival, that a bluegrass band was performing in the parking lot!

I literally shed tears of joy.

When I thought about what Charlottesville would be like, I hoped for mountain views and bluegrass music. From the Target parking lot alone, we could experience both at once. Man, this place is like Leah and Daniel Wise Heaven.